


Crack Of Dawn

by Tyranno



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: 5+1 things said instead of "I Love You", Bruce Wayne/trans!Lex Luthor, De-aged!Lex, Other, kryptonitee dildo, these are seperate fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:53:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6676753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of completed, short fics prompted from <a href="http://bvs-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/">this Superbat Kinkmeme</a>, set exclusively in the <i>bvs</i> canon, the contents of which are in the tags. You can even suggest a fic that you'd like to see in the comments, altho no promises.</p><p> </p><p>(the title is a pun! its <i>crack</i> from the <i>dawn</i> of justice.</p><p> </p><p>what do you mean that's lame?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. De-aged Lex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [[prompt]](http://bvs-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/804.html?thread=20260#t20260)
> 
> Usually I don't like to post kinkmeme fills to fanfiction accounts, I feel like that almost goes against the whole point of them, but this is a special case, since this kinkmeme doesn't have a sticky fill post (a place where links to all the written fics are posted) and I don't like the idea of fics being written and then being lost. I think that's really sad. So I just wanted to archive them all here, for the moment.

He found a baby in the wreckage.

Batman lifted it, sharp eyes scrutinising the soft, pale face. The sharp green eyes, the familiar facial structure. The Gucci shirt wrapped around its pudgy middle.

A whisper of a cloak sounded Superman's arrival and Batman turned to face him. Noticing the pale, silent form in Batman's arms, Superman's breath caught. Terror flashed over his face, "Is--is it...?"

Batman opens his mouth to reply but the baby struggles, little arms flailing until it almost sits up, bright little eyes fixing on Superman and--

\--lets out a tremendous _wail_.

  
*

  
The Arctic was the same as always. Cold as balls.

The snow crunched like gravel when Superman gently set him down, and Batman could feel the icy air seeping through the seams of Kevlar. The landscape was frigid and still. Batman's footsteps sounded uncomfortably loud. His breath echoed inside his hood.

"Can we be quick?" Batman said, huddling the bundle of blankets close to him, "The cold can't be good for him."

Superman raised an eyebrow, grinning a little, but for once, thankfully, said nothing. He beckoned and Batman entered the fortress warily.

Echoes of old fears tingled at the back of Batman's mind. The fortress looked more like a natural disaster than a building, more alien in design than he was comfortable with. Hundreds of translucent spears of ice criss-crossed over his head, serene and beautiful. Light streamed in pale shafts and ghosted over smooth blue ice.

Superman wrapped a hand around a thin crystal which paled to white at his touch. "Are you sure he won't remember where we are?"

Batman shifted the bundle of blankets, a little round face appearing. The cheeks and nose were ruddy with cold and an expression like an on-coming storm, but otherwise, was perfectly fine. "No. Besides, he's little more than two months at my estimate. Even if he _is_ still a genius, his _eyes_ won't be able to pick out one ice floe from another for at least another five months."

Superman watched the little face with a little apprehension, but nodded and turned back to the crystals.

Batman shifted the baby-- _Lex Luthor_ , he reminded himself with a half-shudder--back to face his chest, just in case. This place, this fortress, was Superman--Kal's--last connection to his planet, to his blood parents. Standing here was like standing inside Kal's heart.

Superman touched crystals gently and they bloomed with colour; reds, purples, blues, oranges. There was a flicker running up on of the supporting icicles and then an explosion of light that focused to a beam, pinpointing Batman like a spotlight.

There was a sharp garble in a language Bruce could barely understand and the light winked out.

Batman blinked the spots out of his eyes, "So?"

"Well..." Superman said, "There's some good news and there's some bad news."

"What's the bad news?" Batman growled.

Superman folded his arms, "There's nothing the machine can do to reverse it."

Batman covered Lex's ears and swore quietly.

"The good news is it'll reverse itself in a little while," Superman supplied brightly.

"How long is a little while?" Batman asked.

"It's only one day."

  
*

  
"Whoa, are you sure you want to go down here?" Superman asked, drifting to a halt above one of Metropolis's towering skyscrapers.

"Just trust me, Kal," Batman grumbled.

Superman carefully set him down and landed next to him. "If you wanted to talk, we could have just talked in the air."

"I don't want to talk," Batman pushed the roof's door open and set off down the stairs.

Superman swooped after him. "Where are we going?"

"To my apartment."

"Your...?"

Three flights of stairs later they wandered down a fairly modern but deserted hallway, flanked by sombre black doors that looked more like prison cells than apartments. Batman stopped in front of one seemingly at random and punched in a code.

The inside wasn't much better. There was one door to the bathroom, but the rest was all in one room; a small kitchen unit was squished in the far right corner and a thin bed piled with clothes in the left. An old television the size and shape of a medium-sized cardboard box blared static on top of a bookcase that was bare except for a handful of DVDs still in their plastic wrapping. The walls were featureless and bare except from an cheap clock above the bed. There wasn't even a carpet.

It looked exactly how you would expect the living space of a man who lived only to fight crime to look. It was a safe house.

Batman closed the door behind them and pulled off his mask with a sigh. "Hold junior for a bit, would you? I'm going to change."

Kal gingerly took the baby.

Batman snagged some clothing from the bed and padded tiredly to the bathroom.

Kal looked down at the little baby.

Once he knew it was Lex, he saw the similarities. The baby had the same arched eyebrows, the same straight roman nose in miniature. But now, Lex's face was without shadow. It was soft and padded, the piercing eyes were paler and brighter, and what Kal suspected was supposed to be a hateful glare was now just an amusingly grumpy expression.

It was disconcerting, seeing his arch nemesis, a man who tried to kill him on a regular basis--who had actually managed it, once--as a baby. As a cute baby, now that Kal thought about it.

"May I?" Batman asked, voice lilting with humour.

"Mmm? Oh!" Kal passed him the baby sheepishly.

Batman--Bruce, as he was now--disentangled Lex from the thick padding of blankets and dressed him in a diaper with practised ease.

Kal watched, head tilted. He opened his mouth to ask, but closed it again in a grin.

"Spit it out," Bruce grumbled.

"Does baby care come up a lot in crime-fighting?" Kal asked, grinning.

Bruce's eyes turned nasty and Kal's humour drained.

"Make yourself useful and go buy some formula," Bruce turned away.

Kal was thankful for the excuse to leave.

  
*

  
When Kal returned, the apartment was dark.

He tip-toed inside, setting a box of formula next to the television, along with a plastic bottle and a packet of spare diapers. Outside their window, Metropolis slept soundly under a pearl-white moon. He focused his hearing around the city, but Metropolis was quiet, without even so much as a peep from even the small-time rascals and ne'erdowells. No such luck.

"Welcome back, honey," Bruce's voice was growling and as deep as an Atlantic trench. It sent sparks of feeling to places in Kal's body that should really know better by now.

Kal shrugged awkwardly, "I didn't know what formula he needs so I asked the lady at the counter and got what she suggested."

A huff of annoyance like Bruce was dissatisfied with Kal's response.

Silence settled in the small apartment, but it was only semi-awkward.

"About earlier..." Kal cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have assumed--"

The dark shape on the small bed straightened, sighing deeply. "It wasn't your fault. I suppose I am a little sensitive around the subject of children."

"Sorry," Kal said.

Bruce shuffled gently towards the wall. He gestured to the space next to him, "Sit."

Kal sat.

"It's about time I told you," Bruce said.

"You don't have to," Kal assured him. Bruce's feelings had always been tied in a tight knot of nerves and acted like tripwires. It was too much to ask to start picking it apart for his sake.

"It's only fair," Bruce said. "I know a lot about you, Kal. Probably more than any other human on this earth."

"Speaking of," Kal eyed makeshift the cot that Bruce had assembled from what looked suspiciously like a dog-cage.

"He's asleep. He doesn't have the muscle control to regulate his breathing to feign sleep," Bruce smiled a little evilly, "You should have seem the tantrum he threw when he found that out."

Kal laughed quietly.

"As I was saying, I know where your fortress is, your weaknesses, I know where you came from, your planet's history, parts of your language. I know all of your names," Bruce smiled, "but what do you know about me?"

"I know your identity," Kal supplied.

"And that's all," Bruce said, "It's only fair I give you a brief outline."

Kal nodded.

"Neither of my sons were young enough for diapers," Bruce said, and his voice was strangely careful, "The first, he was bright and more than promising. I trained him, tried to keep him off the streets long enough for him to survive. He was gifted, kind too."

Kal watched Bruce's face. It was barer than he'd ever seen.

"He was a good kid," Bruce sighed, deeply, from the cradle of his lungs, "He's still around. In Bludhaven somewhere. We talk a little, not much as we should."

Kal swallowed. Suddenly the darkness seemed too close and intimate, and he almost wished for the bright clarity of day.

"The second..." Bruce closed his eyes. "Jason. He... he was like me. Just like me. He was my rage, but without my control--but God, he was a good kid. The best." Pain flared across Bruce's face, "I-I..."

Bruce let out a sigh with quiet, raw edge.

Kal felt a sharp stab of something like fear something like sympathy pierce his heart.

Bruce's eyes flickered open and he seemed to sag in on himself, tension leaving his muscles. Suddenly he looked a lot older, the grey dappling his temples shined like threads of white silk in moonlight. The pain in his eyes was naked.

Kal moved smoothly and instinctively, enfolding Bruce in a tight hug.

Bruce lent against him, resting his head on Kal's shoulder.

Kal gently settled Bruce against the bed and pulled the covers over them both.

  
*

  
The joy of parenthood rudely woke them both at two in the morning in the form of the piercing crying of a baby.

"You get him," Kal said quickly while Lex drew a breath.

"You're superman," Bruce said, grinning sleepily, "what would the papers say if you couldn't handle a two-month old?"

Kal glared, but rolled out of bed anyway. Bruce seemed to be back to normal again, and he needed the sleep more than Kal did. Kal didn't really need sleep at all, it was more... habit.

Kal scooped Lex out of his crib and bounced him lightly to calm him down while he squinted at the back of the formula bottle.

Fifteen minutes later, Lex was involuntarily but contentedly asleep on his Kal's shoulder and Bruce was sleeping like a baby again. Kal considered turning the television on quietly or maybe reading an old magazine he'd spotted under the bookshelf for entertainment, but he enjoyed the quiet.

Quiet was something that was surprisingly hard to come by, these days. That's why he had the fortress, he supposed. But maybe it wasn't just the quiet he missed, but the companionship too.

Kal bounced Lex gently as he stirred, and wandered aimlessly around the apartment. Look at him, getting all domestic. His mother would be proud.

  
*

  
Bruce woke at six, like clockwork, to the clacking of keys.

Kal tapped restlessly at his laptop, like a strange kind of woodpecker. A small crease marred his perfect brow, but when he glanced over at Bruce it vanished. "Good morning."

Bruce looked at him, and then smiled, tiredly. "Morning. How's the little terror?"

"Asleep again," Kal said, "he woke up at four but I calmed him before he could wake you."

Bruce sat up slowly. "You got pretty good at that baby thing pretty fast. It sounds like your a natural. How long do we have now?"

"Six hours. And it wasn't all me," Kal gestured at the crib with an infectious smile, "I had some help from a little friend."

Bruce peered into the crib.

Clutched tightly in Lex's hand and halfway in his mouth was a little felt toy of familiar red and blue, complete with a tiny felt curl.

Bruce grinned, "He appears to be trying to bite your head off. Somethings never change, I suppose."

"Yeah," Kal smiled, "It kind of reminds me that we were all like that at one point, you know? Just a little child."

"If you're going to get philosophical on me," Bruce stretched, "I'm going to need a coffee."

"That's--" Kal hesitated and then swallowed, strengthening his resolve. "That's not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about last night."

Bruce's humour fades, and his eyes grew watchful. He waited.

Kal felt nerves tingle in his spine. He could face down a hoard of super villains intent on the destruction of the human race without breaking a sweat but this, this was scary. "You're right, it's not fair unless we're totally honest with each other."

Bruce waited.

"I like you, Bruce," Clark said. "I-I mean, I like-like you Bruce."

"You _like-like_ me?" Bruce grinned wolfishly.

Clark shot him a dark glare. "Look, I can understand you being uncomfortable, but there's no need--"

Bruce cut him off with a kiss.

Clark startled, and then returned it with a smile. The kiss was warm and soft, like a spicy curry or a hot drink, gentle and comforting. Bruce settled easily against him like a puzzle piece, heat pressing through his clothing.

Bruce broke off with a smile. "No need for what?"

  
*

  
Seven hours later, Hope startled at the sound of her office's door flying open. "Mr Luthor?!" She asked, leaping up, "Mr. Luthor we were all wondering--"

Luthor's door slammed shut behind him, cutting her off.

Hope waited for a moment in indecision. She'd had a bet with her colleagues that he was probably in an alternate universe and wouldn't be back for a week, which she had obviously lost, but curiosity burned at her brain. Where had he been? Usually he informed her of his disappearances to avoid risking accidentally informing the press but this time...

She sidled out of her chair and peered through the small peephole behind an ancient painting, angling herself to get a glimpse of her boss.

Mr. Luthor stood in front of Metropolis, the huge windows in front of him looking down on the great city. He was still and silent.

The sun streamed across the office floor.

Mr. Luthor turned something over in his hand, something small and soft and brightly coloured, before slipping it back into his pocket.


	2. Kryptonite Dildo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [[prompt]](http://bvs-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/804.html?thread=11556#t11556)
> 
> my first porn, be nice.

He felt it before he sees it.

It was like a sharp tug on the scruff of his neck, somewhere between nausea and anxiety. Clark turned warily, eyes darting from his dark lover to the bright thing he held in his hand.

It fit very easily in Bruce's hands, the thick shaft sat comfortably between his black-clad fingers. It glowed very faintly green, the smooth gemstone veined with black.

“Impure?” Clark asked, throat dry. Pure kryptonite was like diving into a sun, being ripped apart by a force of nature. This was more insidious, an underlying feel of unease and vulnerability. He felt himself weakening, like layers of him were falling away.

“Something like that,” Bruce said, resting a hand on Clark's knee. His voice sent sparks through Clark's spine. “The material hit earth as a meteorite and fused with obsidian.”

Bruce lifted it to his face, eyes reflecting a soft green. “It's quite beautiful if you look at it like that.”

Clark swallowed thickly.

Bruce spread Clark's legs. His gloved fingers were so cold against Clark's burning skin he was sure they left imprints where the flesh remembered his touch. Clark's dick was so painfully hard he had to look away.

“We can stop, if you think it is too much,” Bruce murmured, voice dark.

Clark felt desire spike almost painfully in his belly, “N-no.”

Bruce hummed.

Clark felt bare hands brush the inside of his thigh and he glanced back to see the kryptonite slide into him.

It was like a hot poker.

Heat roared in his veins. The sensation was overwhelming—something like pain and something like pleasure—his brain scrambled, lungs seized up, his nerves sparked and flared wildly. His shoulders tensed sharply, the unbelievable sensation boiled every inch of his skin—the whole world was wrapped in flames. And then—

And then—

it was gone.

Clark gasped, dragging in the cold cave air. He shifted, the chill of the blankets a balm to his frazzled nerves. After a moment of silence he heaved himself up, glancing at Bruce.

Bruce just raised an eyebrow, “I don't think I've seen anyone come that fast.”


	3. 5+1 things said instead of "I Love You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [[prompt]](http://bvs-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/804.html?thread=15652#t15652)

-  
1  
-

  
"Why did you go back for me?!" Bruce snarled, anger and desperation straining his voice. "You could have saved them! You let them _die_!"

Clark reeled back, stinging. What was worse was that Bruce's words found their mark, his own fears and doubts rising quickly to the surface. He struggled to find words, "I couldn't--I didn't..."

"Why did you go back for me?!" Bruce snatched a trail of scarlet cape and threw it back at him, "What good are you if you can't--you can't..."

Clark swallowed, gaze dropping.

Bruce huffed, glancing away. He rubbed a gloved hand over his grimy face. After a moment he finally looked Clark in the face. "I don't understand it. I'm practically your worst enemy on this side of the law, every discussion I shut you out, every meeting I veto nearly every idea you suggest. Why do you still look out for me? It doesn't make any sense."

Clark shifted, meeting his gaze. "I don't know."

  
-  
2  
-

  
"I like the new suit," Bruce glanced over. The deeper shade of red stretched over Clark's chest contrast bringing the blue to a purer, clearer shade. "It really brings out your eyes."

Clark raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms, "You're getting sarcastic in your old age."

Bruce's brow furrowed for a moment, like he was annoyed, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "I was born sarcastic, boy scout."

  
-  
3  
-

  
"How is he?"

Diana glanced up at him as she exited the tent, the surface of the alien planet creaking oddly under her boots. "He'll be fine. He's been shot before. The krytonite bullet isn't any more dangerous to him than a regular bullet would have been."

Clark leant back a little, his cape spreading out behind him. "And he's not...?" He trailed off, unsure of what he was trying to ask.

Diana raised an eyebrow, "If you're worried about the bullet, I'm going to dispose of it soon." She shook a small lead container lightly, the deadly crystal tinkling inside it. "Right now, in fact."

Clark nodded absently and pushed inside the tent.

Inside, the shadows were thin and oily, the alien soil smelling faintly of sulfur. Bruce sat stoically on the low camp bed, cupping a bandaged shoulder. He glanced up as Clark entered, nodding slightly.

Clark let the tent door fall closed behind him, taking a deep breath. This planet's atmosphere was subtly thinner than Earth's, making deep breaths neccisery. It probably caused the nervous feeling in his stomach, Clark assured himself.

"If you're going to complain about me taking a bullet for you," Bruce said dryly, "You can save your breath, you hypocrite."

"No, that's--that's not what I was going to say," Clark lied, "What I was going to say was: Thank you. For trusting me."

Bruce huffed.

  
-  
4  
-

  
When Clark first entered the Janneth Trust's Ornemental-Lawn-turned-Garden-Party, he was dazzled by the sheer amount of relective surfaces. There seemed almost more glass and ice sculptures than guests.

Clark stopped in front of a rearing glass horse, the light sparkling over perfectly sculpted muscels that seemed to quiver with restrained power in the corner of his eye.

He heard a familiar heartbeat and turned to see Bruce rounding a sculpture to his left, a crouching mountain lion, teeth sheared to needle points, light streaming straight through blank ice eyes.

Relief brightened Bruce's features when he noticed Clark, something Clark suspected he had needed his supersenses to catch. Some tension unwound from Bruce's neck, a little genuine widening to his false smile.

Bruce caught Clarks shoulders and suddenly a grimness floated underneath the surface of his vapid smile. "Hang around until after the party's over, I have a case to discuss."

Clark nodded and watched Bruce rejoin the gaggle of socialites, and could have fooled himself into thinking Bruce was a little more relaxed.

  
-  
5  
-

  
Clark took the first step down into the cave and the air seemed to drop a few degrees. The staircase was like a tunnel, the chill from the stone ghosting over his skin. The metal clanked uncomfortably loud under his footsteps, and he was tempted to lift off so he'd stop making such a racket. How did Bruce manage to move so silently?

All thoughts were wiped from his mind as a hairpin turn revealed the full spread of the batcave.

Air left his lungs in a soft gush.

The cave itself was huge and domed, ripples of stone catching and casting strange shadows across a complex mess of machinery and glinting glass display cases, the hoard of a lifetime of hunting crime.

Stage lights streamed over Clark's ankles as he descended. He watched Bruce dart past the obsitcals with long-practiced ease, and Clark suddenly realised the depth of the gesture. Clark had shown Bruce the Fortress, but that was different, there was nothing Bruce could do there and Clark doubted it would even let Bruce in. The cave, however, was Bruce's true base and home. With a few words in the right ears, Clark could have it totally destroyed and there was nothing Bruce could do to prevent that. The level of trust Bruce must have in him was at once both comforting and overwhelming.

"You're staring," Bruce observed, glancing away from the computer for a moment, "Is something wrong?"

_I love you_ , Clark tries to say, but it comes out wrong. "It's nothing."

  
-  
+1  
-

  
Bruce's curtains billow inwards, black silk snaking smoothly through the chill night air. The sky outside was a deep velvet black, the moon picked out in a clean circle.

Bruce's eyes flickered open and he took a moment to orentate himself. He watched red fabric twist on the breeze like something living. "Clark..." He breathed, eyes rising to meet familiar ones.

"Bruce," Clark said. His voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed his uncertainty. They always did. "I have something to tell you."

Bruce's heart plunged. He closed his eyes and quickly imagined all of the worst things, scenarios springing swiftly to mind like well-trained dogs, and emotionally braced himself for all of them. After a few seconds, his eyes flickered open again and he took in a steady breath, "Okay. Tell me."

"Bruce I--" Clark paused for a moment, "Bruce, I love you."

Bruce blinked. Then he smiled, tiredly. "I know."

Clark frowned, "You knew."

"Yeah," Bruce rubbed his eyes. "I love you too."

Clark smiled that beautiful, brilliant smile of his. It was like the smile of a sun.

"Come in," Bruce beckoned, "And close the window behind you. You're letting the cold in." 


	4. Bruce Wayne/trans!Lex Luthor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [[prompt]](http://bvs-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/804.html?thread=31524#t31524)
> 
> I hoped to do more of these, but the exams are closing in quite fast, so it looks like I'm done for now. But I'm proud of the ones I've already done and quite like 'em.

Light filtered softly through the Japanese silk curtains, painting the floor boards with strips of colour like stained glass. The air was warm and dense, heavy with the smell of roses and incense.

 

Lex breathed out quietly, and drained his glass. The whiskey scolded his throat and in that moment it seemed like the only real thing in the world.

 

“Perhaps something lighter?” Bruce rolled a little closer. His shirt was open, and Lex's eyes were blessed with a wealth of ragged scars. Bruce looked like he had been torn apart and stitched back together—badly. It made Lex's nerves about his own scars seem suddenly childish.

 

“Lighter?” Lex asked.

 

Bruce lifted a bottle from behind him and snapped the seal. Lex breathed in. The smell was rich and clean, like new leather. “1864,” Bruce said, “Tuscany.”

 

“A good year,” Lex said mildly, offering his glass.

 

As Bruce poured, an amber sun bounced over the liquid, glittering like gold. Bruce's hair caught mercury as he turned his head, hair like a hundred spun threads of silver. Hands, bronzed by sunshine, cupped his.

 

Truly Lex was a man of riches.

 

“There is something you want to tell me.” Bruce said.

 

Lex took his glass. The heat pressed close to him. “I have had top surgery, but not bottom,” he said, steadily. “I don't intend to, actually.”

 

Bruce's eyes widened comically. “You mean, you're a different person from the waist up?! Or... from the waist down, if it's your brain that makes you who you are?”

 

Lex's eyes hardened, “It's not a joke, Bruce.”

 

Bruce's smirk softened into a genuine smile. His blue eyes gleamed like slips of winter sky.

 

Lex regarded him coolly. “You knew.”

 

“I knew from your face shape, your body fat distribution, the tone and timbre of your voice,” Bruce took a sip of his cider. “I always knew.”

 

Lex turned his gaze to the wall paintings. Masterpieces. He felt a hand card through his hair and rest, fingers touching the curve of his skull, gripping firmly. The room was uncomfortably hot.

 

“I'm glad you told me,” Bruce said, voice brushing inaudible.

 

“It is only fair,” Lex murmured. “It is our feet of clay, not our golden heads, that make us who we are.”

 

Bruce's other hand pushed inside Lex's shirt to run smoothly over his chest. The heat around Lex was near unbearable.

 

“I wouldn't call it an imperfection,” Bruce whispered, and Lex could feel the vibrations of Bruce's voice through his hands. “More of a feature, a simple fact.”

 

Lex's sharp jade eyes ghosted over Bruce's face, “I'm afraid that would leave us both faultless.”

 

Bruce smiled, a little sadly. “And _I'm_ ****afraid you're wrong there, Mr. Luthor,” Bruce pushed him back and planted a hand either side of his chest, “I have _imperfections_ like you wouldn't believe.”

 

Lex wrapped his arms around Bruce's neck and pulled him close, “I look forward to them.”


End file.
